


I'll always find you.

by onanotherworld



Category: Star Trek
Genre: M/M, Sassy, Torture, slight romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-22
Updated: 2013-09-22
Packaged: 2017-12-27 08:45:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/976789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onanotherworld/pseuds/onanotherworld
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim is captured</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll always find you.

Jim let his captors slap him in the face, and he rolled with the punch. He leans back heavily in the chains, blood trickling from his mouth, and his eyes puffy and swollen from twin punches. The lashes on his back throb with agony with each pulse of his blood. He has been tortured for what seems like forever. Jim was captured on the planet Belga Thirteen, when the Klingons staged a raid on the Federation planet. In the confusion he was captured and tortured for information that he would not give. Jim hoped that Spock and the Enterprise found him soon. 

 

The Klingon torturer says something in his own gruff language, to which Jim spits and replies, "I don't speak your fucking language."

 

The alien's mouth curls unpleasantly, and he repeats what he said in a heavily accented Standard; "What uniform is that?"

 

"Oh this little thing," Jim pants as the jailer hits him again, hard enough to make a black tide rise behind his eyes, and he struggles to keep conscious. "just something I slipped on." he finishes, gasping for breath and hissing as the movement inflames his broken ribs.

 

"Liar!" the Klingon says in a guttural tone, "You from Starfleet," he pauses to spit disgustingly on Jim's blood, which has dripped to the floor beneath him, "Starfleet rat!"

 

"At least I'm not some Klingon with a fetish for torture and bondage." Jim shoots back at him, even though he knows it will get him more pain, but Jim doesn't shirk from pain. The dark, stone chamber seems to grow darker still as the jailer's brow sinks in anger, and his eyes narrow with primal, animalistic fury. 

 

Disturbingly, the jailer chuckles darkly and says "You pay for that runtling." He flourishes a cat'o'nine tales, already soaked in the blood of it's previous victims and Jim refuses to flinch. He is scared, terrified by the reminder of Kodos' torture, but Jim doesn't show it. The whip whistles as it flies through the air, and time seems to freeze as he leans back in his chains, trying to escape the inevitable.

 

The whip lands.

 

It lifts his skin, and even though Jim was prepared for the agony; it still took is breath away, and he tips his head back, throat working to muffle a scream that works its way up from the bottom of his lungs. 

 

It lands again and again, each lash laying over the other in a blinding symphony of pain, and Jim can't stop the screams that rip from his throat, and leaving it feeling sore, but that is a candle to the inferno of pain radiating from his torso and legs. His uniform is ripped to shreds, and he can't find the will in him to care about it. 

 

"You ready to talk, rat?" asks the Klingon, holding back the whip from it's descending arc.

 

"Never!" Jim hisses, trying to limit the movement of his body in general. 

 

The Klingon shrugs. Puts the whip away and comes up with a new torture device. He is cut to ribbons with the device, pain shooting over his being with a white-hot intensity. Jim thinks of Spock. The ethereal face calms him, and lets his eye lids droop, and allows his consciousness to be borne away by the sweet blackness. 

 

\--

 

He is half-roused to consciousness by the sound of phaser fire, and a harsh growling that triples in volume when the being enters the room. 

 

Rescue? Jim thinks almost hopefully, and lifts his head slightly, only to have a blaze of agony fire through his body. ?He lets his head drop again with a groan. He half hears a heavy thump, like a body dropping to the floor.

 

The chains around his wrist are gently removed, and his body lowered to the dank cell floor. Slender, but strong, arms come around him, and gently squeeze, but the tone in which the words are said completely change them. "Jim! Jim! T'hy'la! Can you hear me, beloved?" was said in a frantic voice.

 

"Please." The word is so broken, and so alone, that Jim finds the willpower to crack open his lids, and see the frantic, brown eyes that are almost black with worry and adrenaline, raven hair sweeping about his face above him.

 

"Spock," he whispers the words, and Spock looks fit to burst with joy that he is still alive. "Thank God you found me."

 

He his hugged to Spock's chest, and Spock brushes a feather light kiss onto Jim's hair. 

 

"Even if the Universe stands in between I and you, I will always find you, my T'hy'la."

**Author's Note:**

> poor Jim.


End file.
